Physician, heal thyself
by Shadow Prototype00
Summary: TFA: Healing is an art that takes years to learn and a lifetime to master. Ratchet has just started on his journey, learning this craft from the best Cyberton has to offer.
1. Chapter 1

_I swear by Primus making him bare witness to bring the following oath to fulfillment in accordance with my power and judgment. I promise to regard those who have taught me these skills as equal to my creators and to teach others these skills should they desire to learn._

To hold all life sacred and preserve all Sparks, regardless of affiliation and use my knowledge and processes solely for the benefit of the damaged.  
To first do no harm when in the course of treatment.  
I acknowledge to defer to others when their experience and expertise exceeds my own for the benefit of my patient.

Never will I deliberately bring harm to another for anyone else's interest nor will I suggest such actions. In this, the purest way, I shall guard my own Spark and teachings.

Wherever I go may it be for the benefit of the damaged and never intentionally abuse my power.  
In caring for them, may I never make known to the outside what I hear during treatment, keeping all knowledge in confidence.

If I render this oath fulfilled may it grant me the ability to enjoy the benefits of both function and teaching and be held in good standing amongst all Cybertronians, however if I go against my teachings may the opposite of these be held true.

_-__**Oath of a Physician-bot**_**.**

As he looked out over the gathered assembly of young bots, First Alert sighed inwardly. A new batch of protoforms to process, not that he wasn't looking forward to it. Teaching a new generation of physician-bots was a pleasure, albeit a frustrating one at times.

"I swear the bots get younger each stellar cycle." Another faculty member remarked quietly to him. "We'll be teaching protoforms before long."

Giving a low chortle, First Alert leaned back in his seat. "Maybe, or maybe we're just getting older.

It was the opening ceremony of a new academic cycle at the school. All new students were in attendance and the President of the school was giving his speech, welcoming them all there. Crystal City was a place known for both its beautiful architecture and the many great scientific minds that called it home. It also hosted one of the greatest medical universities on all Cybertron. Crystal City School of Repair boasted an impressive curriculum and impeccable faculty that were all still practicing physicians. Many of the graduates went on to be sector renowned doctors and surgeons.

The selection process was rigorous and only those who scored highest in their compulsorily education and the initial Repair School Exams were given entrance. The small classes the process created benefited the students and allowed more 1-to-1 for the students and faculty.

The spark of physician-bot was very special thing. It needed to be strong, allowing for a steady servo to hold the laser scalpel and have a unique brand of hubris for the physician-bot to be confident in his or her abilities to repair their patient. They could not second-guess themselves or allow for others to. They needed to be firm yet adaptable, calculated but compassionate. A good physician-bot would touch the very spark of all those they cared for and in the worst case scenario hold it in their hands as they tried to keep it from being extinguished.

As the President of the school ended his speech the faculty and students all stood to clap the next solar cycle would be the beginning of classes. As he left First Alert allowed himself a little chuckle. He was teaching Gross Structure and Circuitry to all those students going through their first cycle. Returning home he gave his class roster a once over noting that several students with superior test scores were in his first class of the day. He grinned, oh this would be fun. Part of the fun of teaching new physician-bots was breaking them down and building them back up.

As he walked into the auditorium the following cycle, the excited chatter and buzz of vocal processors ceased and all focused on him, bright optics shined with an eagerness to process all the information. Coming to a stop behind the podium in the center of the room, First Alert set his data pad down and looked up at his students. It was a sea of red and white chassis with some blue and by Primus there was one individual who was a garish shade of greenish yellow that made First Alert's optics water. No one would ever lose sight of that one. He waited until the clock struck the right time before starting to give the stragglers a moment to find a seat.

"Welcome all first cycle students. This is Gross Structure and Circuitry; I am Physician-bot First Alert. If this isn't where you are supposed to be, you best-." He was cut off as the doors at the top of the auditorium were thrown opening with a resounding clang. A squat young-bot rushed in. He was primarily white and red with some black accents and a large red chevron on his helmet. The mech squirmed slightly as everyone turned towards him.

"Is this first cycle Gross Structure and Circuitry?" He asked sheepishly.

First Alert gave a nod while shooting the mech a disapproving glare; though with the distance he doubted the young-bot would even pick up on it. Tardiness was one thing that he couldn't tolerate.

"It is and you would be?"

"The name's Ratchet, Sir." He announced proudly. "Sorry I'm late, traffic was murder."

Taking a deep breath, First Alert shook his head and muttered quietly. "Oh Primus grant me strength." He looked up only to see Ratchet had still had not taken a seat. "Please sit down so that we may continue." The young mech found a seat at the back of the auditorium and First Alert resumed the lecture. When it was concluded he asked them to follow him to the lab.

The room smelled of sterilizing fluid, oil, and engergon. A dozen tables with sheet draped figures laid before them. "This," First Alert explained after the first series of gasps were finished. "This is where we will have our dissection labs. This course is to educate you in the basic structure of all Cybertronians. The information you receive here will later be used by you to aid in a medical diagnosis." Walking to one table, he gently set a servo upon the covered figure.

"These noble Cybertronians have donated their chassis to medical science so that you may benefit and learn. Respect them for even though they have gone to the Well of Allsparks, they were once living, functioning beings." He looked out at the class. Their shining optics now dimmed. "Break up into teams of six and pick out a chassis, we will begin your first lab now."

There was a shuffle as everyone broke into groups and stood by their chosen chassis. First Alert gave a slight nod. "You may uncover them." He watched as their faces went blank, optics wide in shock. For many this would be their first experience with a non-functioning Cybertronian.

"We will begin with opening the chest cavity to uncover the first layer of control cable and fuel lines. Please use a standard Y incision." Walking around the room he watched as shaking servos grasped for tools and began to cut. He looked at Ratchet who while shaking, had a steeled expression as he worked. There might be hope for that one yet.

"Very nice, just pull back or you will cut too deeply." He advised quietly. The mech nodded and upon turning back to his 'patient' swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat.

As chest plates came apart, several students hurried towards the exit and those who couldn't make it, did their best to find a trash receptacle to purge their tanks into. Sadly, Ratchet was among them. Maybe First Alert had spoken too soon. Well there was still plenty of time to harden their tanks and thicken their armor. He would turn these quivering protoforms into Physician-bots yet!


	2. Chapter 2

His frame shook again as another wave of nausea forced his tank to purge itself into the trash can. After the moment had passed, the young-bot lowered himself onto his skid plates and looked back towards the lab room. He had managed to make it out just in time. Several others had joined him but they had all gone back inside, he was the only one remaining as his tank was still unsettled.

Groaning, Ratchet put his head in his servos, this had to be the single most embarrassing moment of his function. Hearing the doors to the lab open, he glanced up to see one of his lab partners coming out.

"It's Ratchet, right?" He nodded as she knelt down in front of him and regarded him with a careful optic. "I'm Red Alert, are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "The only thing damaged is my pride." Ratchet offered her weak grin and stood up. Rubbing the back of his neck, he heaved another sigh. "What a great way to start off repair school."

She offered him a smile and touched his upper arm. "Don't worry about it, but you better come back now. First Alert is continuing with his lecture."

Nodding, Ratchet followed her back into the lab. For the remainder of the lab he allowed his partners to perform the dissection, his tank still twisting painfully as he watched. He took notes on everything and when the lab concluded he promised to give his lab partners all a copy.

As the students began to filter out, Red Alert fell into step along side Ratchet as he headed down the corridor. "What's your next class? I have Neurocircuitry with Preceptor."

"The basic study of Protoforms with Lifeline," he said glancing at his schedule. Seeing his next lecture hall, Ratchet stopped and said goodbye to Red Alert.

"Maybe we could get together and study sometime. I've heard that First Alert's examinations are designed to torture the first cycles." She suggested before giving him a wave and hurrying towards her next class.

Ratchet felt a small grin form as he turned to go into the lecture hall, whistling slightly as he tried to ignore the questioning looks from the others around him.

Back at his office, First Alert called up the roster for his first class and started to review them. He liked to be able to put names to faces after the first deca-cycle. Seeing Ratchet's image, he called it up and started to read up on his student. He was surprised to see that that the mech had above average test scores when compared to those of his fellow first cycles but his lab scores were abysmal due to lack of participation.

"That's not going to cut it," he thought out loud. First Alert would need to keep a very close optic on Ratchet and make sure he did not glitch things up for himself.

Over the course of the cycle, First Alert watched as his group of students learned and began the development of their skills but noted that Ratchet never once touched the scalpel after that first class. Instead, he would observe and take notes. Ratchet was at the top of his class in everything but First Alert's, where his lack of participation in lab was pulling him down.

First Alert didn't know the reasons behind this, but he could sense that Ratchet did indeed have the Spark required to become a great physician-bot. So he would rather be sent to the Pit than let that gift wasted! The next time in lab, as the groups got ready to begin dissection First Alert set a servo on Red Alert's shoulder.

"I'd like to see Ratchet do some cutting today." He said, noticing the shocked and slightly sick look it the young-bot's optics. Nodding she passed the laser scalpel to Ratchet whose color had all but drained away from his face. "I haven't seen you do any of the dissections."

"Yes, Sir." His vocal processor cracked slightly as he drew closer to the chassis. Taking a deep breath, Ratchet lowered the tool, his servos already quaking before he had even made the first incision.

"Stabilize your servos, Ratchet. You're here to be a physician-bot not a back ally spare-parts dealer." First Alert growled with disapproval.

There was a noticeable tick in one of Ratchet's optic ridges and suddenly his servos were still as he began to cut.

As he watched, First Alert remained quiet, noticing the technique that the young-bot was using. "The Mercedes modification of the Towline incision, by Primus you do you listen in lecture. Here I thought you were just catching stasis naps back there."

Shooting his teacher a glare, Ratchet continued to perform the dissection throughout the lab. Damn First Alert to the Pit for humiliating him in front of the others like that. Ratchet's optics narrowed as he carefully excised the primary pump and passed it off to one of this other lab partners, First Aid, to weigh.

"You're doing well." The voice snapped Ratchet out of his brooding and he looked up to see Red Alert standing in front of him, the chassis between the two of them.

He looked back down at the chassis trying to hide a small grin. "Thank you."

As he continued to walk around the lab, First Alert would always go back to watching Ratchet. It seemed that anger was the key. Make him flustered enough and his processes would focus just to show you up. He tucked that bit of information into a folder for future reference.

As the academic cycle continued on, First Alert continued with his unique approach for dealing with Ratchet.

"There are several fields in repair where you will never have to interact with a patient, Ratchet. You should investigate each one because with work this sloppy, your malpractice fees will be astronomical." He remarked once and was sure the young-bot was ready to stab the torque-wrench through his Spark, but it worked. Ratchet began to be more proactive in lab and developing his skills at an amazing rate.

All the students despised First Alert with a passion. He was a cantankerous, perfection driven old-bot that most wanted to see scrapped, but not Ratchet. Ratchet downright loathed First Alert with the fury of the Pit. He went into recharge every evening wishing rust and circuitry glitches on him and booting up every morning praying for his approval. He never got it and it made Ratchet's circuitry sizzle.

Ratchet had made close friends of Red Alert and First Aid and the three had taken to studying together. With the cycle ending and the final looming on the horizon the group was doing so in earnest.

"That's it, I'm taking a break." First Aid sighed, rubbing his forehead. "If I try to commit any more to my memory banks I'm going to blow a gasket."

"The final is in three orbital cycles and you want a break?" Red Alert asked, "You must have a screw loose."

"No, but pounding a data pad against my processor isn't going to make things stick any more. Who wants oil?" He asked, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. The three had gone to First Aid's apartment after being kicked out of the library when it closed.

Ratchet sighed and sat back in his chair. "I'll take one of those." Noticing the look Red Alert was giving him he rolled his optics and turned back towards the kitchen. "Make it two!"

"You're going to clog your tubes with that junk." She remarked as First Aid returned, passing Ratchet his cans of oil.

"Well than you can operate on us and flush them." Ratchet grinned. "C'mon, live a little."

"I think you're doing enough living for all of us." She sighed. "What did you get on that last exam anyway?" The silence that followed made Red Alert pull back a little. "You…didn't fail, did you Ratchet?"

"I got a 95." He said throwing back one of the oil cans. First Aid and Red Alert just looked at him in stunned silence. First Aid was the first to get his vocal processor back online and asked.

"A 95, how did you pull that off? You didn't even come to study group." Ratchet just shrugged and went back to drinking.

Setting her chin in her servos, Red Alert began to study Ratchet carefully. "It's amazing, you drink and party like they're going out of style, but you still manage grades like that."

Ratchet grinned. "I'm just that slaggin' good." Now it was their turn to roll their optics at him.

"Right, tell that to First Alert." First Aid chuckled, "He's got it out for you."

A low growl emitted from Ratchet's vocal processor. "The cranky old-bot needs to loosen that wrench in his tailpipe; he's starting to squeak when he walks." There was a gag as First Aid tried to stifle a laugh but only succeeded in spilling oil all over his chassis. Cursing, he left to get a rag to clean himself with.

Shaking her head, Red Alert just grinned. "If you keep talking about him like that, you'll end up just like him."

Ratchet's now infamous optic-tick returned. "I'd rather be melted down for scrap."

"What I can't believe, "First Aid began, coming back from the kitchen. "Is that second cycle is just a little bit more than a deca-cycle away."

"I just cannot wait for it to be over. At least next cycle we start our clinical rotations." Ratchet started to grin. "I can finally say goodbye to that 8 bit-processor, freak First Alert and go on to bigger and better things."

"Um, Ratchet, you do know he still practices at the school's affiliated hospital, right?" Asked First Aid, "You're going to run into him sooner or later next cycle."

Ratchet just scowled at him. "You function solely to kill my buzz, don't you? I can only hope that he doesn't remember."

"Good luck with that one." First Aid had to dodge the empty oil can Ratchet chucked at his processor.

Grabbing his data-pads, Ratchet got up. "Alright glitch-heads, I'm going back to my place and recharging. I will see you all later."

Red Alert nodded. "Take care, Ratchet. See you at the final." He gave them a two-digit salute before heading out.

The cycle of the exam finally came. Afterwards the three friends came together. It was the last exam of the cycle and while there was a feeling of relief that it was all over, they now had to wait a full orbital cycle to get their final grades.

"That exam was spawned by the Pit itself. Where did he come up with some of those questions? I think I got half of them wrong. I'm slagged." Red Alert cried as they headed off campus.

First Aid put a comforting servo on her shoulder. "Don't blow a gasket, Red. You said that about the midterm and did fine. So just wait and see okay? Hey, how about we head to Six Lasers?" He suggested.

Red Alert looked at him strangely. "What are you, a Sparkling?"

"I think it's a good idea," Ratchet said. "It'll give our processors time to cool down and we can just enjoy things."

With a little more prodding by First Aid, Red Alert conceded defeat and the three headed off. Cybertron was still within the warm glow of the Golden Age of peace. Autobot and Decepticon lived and worked together in peace. The Autobots were the artists, the merchants and workers while the Decepticons were the dedicated and fearless protectors making up the majority of the military force. The light of this era was beginning to wane though as rumors that Lord High Protector Megatron was gathering those loyal to him for a military coup after he was passed over for the position of Supreme Commander as it was given to Ultra Magnus. Ratchet, Red Alert and First Aid couldn't be further from those worries as they enjoyed their time together and the prospect of going on to become full physician-bots. The three returned early the next orbital-cycle and headed to campus in time to see one of the teaching assistant droids posting the final grades.

"Well I guess a 90 isn't bad." Red Alert sighed, backing away from the list. "How'd you guys do?"

"85." First Aid muttered.

"I did well enough." Ratchet gave a startled yelp as First Aid pushed him aside.

"Let's just see about that." First Aid quickly scanned the list and turned back to his friend glaring. "You glitch-head! You got a 100!" Ratchet quickly clamped a servo over First Aid's mouth.

"Mute it!" He hissed before letting go. "I don't want my grades broadcasted to half the city."

Readjusting his face mask, First Aid shook his head. "What's wrong? You should be really proud of yourself."

"I am but I don't even know how I pulled it off." He scratched at his chevron in thought. "He treated me like slag the entire cycle. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him."

Hooking an arm through his, Red Alert started to pull Ratchet along. "C'mon, we need to celebrate! We all passed and I'll even buy the oil this time."

"Isn't a little early for oil?" Ratchet asked as he was dragged along.

"You just need to live a little." She grinned back causing Ratchet to burst out laughing.

In the deca-cycle between the ending of the first cycle and the starting of the second, Ratchet visited his creators back in Kalis before going back. When he returned to Crystal City, Ratchet received word that his first set of modifications had been approved; digit tools and a set of electro magnets. They were a little uncomfortable at first but he gradually got used to them. The magnets sure made it easier to get oil out of the fridge when he was living room.

When the second cycle started he reported to school's teaching hospital bright and early. He and several others were going to be under the tutelage of one of the hospital's chief physician's. First Aid and Red Alert were in another group training under Remedy, a top level surgeon so he doubted he'd see much of his friends but that disappointment did little to curb his enthusiasm.

As he waited with the others in one of the hospital's conference rooms he nervously tapped his stabilizing servo on the leg of the table. When the door hissed open everyone's optics were trained on the entering mech.

"Hello everyone," A large green mech with organ detailing came into the room. "I'm Hoist and first I'd like to congratulate you all on getting through your first cycle of repair school. In your second cycle will consist of servos-on-training in disease and treatment. I wish you the best of luck and now that's been said, you are now all cogs."

There was nothing but silence from the group; well a couple in the back had their jaws hanging open.

"Cogs," Hoist began, "Are the most primitive tool known to Cybertronians. You think you know what you're doing, you are wrong. Rounds with your supervising physician-bot will begin in one breem. He is a second cycle's worst nightmare. He never refuels, never recharges and reads every repair journal no matter how obscure. He is The Fallen. He devours cogs like you for breakfast. By the end of this cycle you will be wishing glitches upon his unprocessed protoforms while praying to Primus to offline you just so you can get relief. Welcome to The Pit."

"Now, now, Hoist." An all too familiar vocal processor chuckled. "Don't put the fear of Primus into them. That's my job."

Feeling the pit of his tank drop out, Ratchet looked beyond Hoist. Standing in the doorway was First Alert, a satisfied grin of his face. He seemed to notice Ratchet as his grin turned into a smirk.

"Ratchet, it's so nice to see you."

Only one line of code was running through Ratchet's CPU, "Slag it!"


	3. Chapter 3

AN/ Thanks to everyone who told me about this chapter in all honestly I have no idea what happened it looks fine here so I thought it would be okay. I apologize for the tears of blood you all shed. I hope this one is better and isn't messed up.

Units of Time  
Breem- 8.3 minutes  
Groon- 1 hour  
Orbital cycle- Day  
Decacyle- 3 weeks  
Quartex- Month

Primus hated him, of that Ratchet was sure. Why else would this be happening to him? What horrible crime could he have committed in a past life that would justify this punishment? As rounds began, the second-cycles followed after First Alert like petrol-ducklings followed their parental units.

"Our first case," First Alert came to rest beside a recharge berth and allowed the students to gather around him. "Is a traumatic, below the knee amputation of the left stabilizing servo. Even after reattachment of a new replacement limb the paitent is still unable to utilize it." He glanced around the group and spotted Ratchet in the back, trying to hide among the other students. "Ratchet, what could one of the possible causes be?"

Ratchet paused only for an astrosecond in his response but First Alert did not seem to care.

"To slow, you," he pointed to one in the front. "Can you answer for him?"

"Possibly the failure to connect the limb to the proper sensory circuit, probably the Superior Scitron circuit," he stammered out.

"Very good," First Alert smiled, "Does anyone else have any possible causes?" He was pleased as the other students gave their suggestions before explaining exactly what was wrong and showing them the various scans and reports before continuing on to the next case.

Rounds lasted a good two groons before First Alert brought the group back to the conference room. Several other junior attending physician-bots were there, including Hoist. First Alert explained that he would be breaking the group up into teams of two and that the junior physician-bots would be doing the actual teaching. Ratchet did a quick scan, nine students and only four teachers, that math did not work out unless there was going to be a group of three somewhere.

Ratchet watched as the pairs were formed. The familiar feeling in his tank returned as the last pair went off with Hoist and Ratchet was left with First Alert who was looking contemplative, regarding him with serious optics. Ratchet felt like he was being circled by a sharkicon.

After several terse moments, First Alert finally broke the silence. "What am I going to do with you?" A few more moments passed and he gave a defeated sigh. "I guess I'll just have to teach you. I'd hate to give them another sparkling to watch over." Looking at Ratchet he all but burst out laughing at the horrified expression playing out on the younger mech's face.

"There are no tests during your second cycle, Ratchet." First Alert explained, "You won't be able to sit in the back and blend in with the furniture, counting on your exam grades to carry you through. If you don't take any initiative and start picking it up, you are going to fail."

Optics narrowed, Ratchet straightened himself out. "I won't fail."

"Then show me." He challenged, "Show me you have what it takes and prove me wrong. Now come with me."

As he followed him down the hall, Ratchet kept glaring at the back of First Alert's head, hoping that if he concentrated hard enough, his head would spontaneously burst into flames. They headed up a flight of stairs that lead to an office area. There were about a dozen or so Autobots and even a few Decepticons seated in the waiting area.

"This is my private practice." He explained, walking to the receptionist's desk and asking for a file. "So please try to refrain from doing anything stupid."

Ratchet only sighed a little and gave a quiet, "Yes, Sir," as he followed First Alert to his office.

"Tell me," he began, taking a seat behind his desk. "Why did you want to be a physician-bot?"

"I wanted to help my fellow bots and make Cybertron a little bit of a better place."

"That's rather banal, so what are your plans after repair school?"

"Well I was hoping to go back to Kalis and open up a little repair bay. I was protoformed out in the sticks and quality maintenance and repairs were hard to come by unless you went to the city. Not many of the Engergon farmers could afford it."

"That's very noble of you." Glancing at the desk clock, First Alert got up and started to head towards the door. "I have to get to my first appointment of the day. They still teach you how to do a standard maintenance history your first cycle, right?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Why?"

"Because, I'm going to have you do one up on this patient."

"Well that shouldn't be too hard."

First Alert made no attempt to hide the devilish grin as Ratchet followed him. "Uh-huh, well I'll just observe you then." First Alert gently knocked on the door once before entering.

"Huffer, how are you doing?" He asked, walking in. The orange and purple mini-bot seated on the exam table did not looked exactly thrilled to be there.

"Not so good Doc." He seemed to take notice of Ratchet just then. "Who's the new nurse-bot?"

Having to suppress a bark of laughter, First Alert shook his head. "Huffer, this is Ratchet, he's just started his second cycle of repair school and will be shadowing me for the foreseeable future."

"Oh no, I'm not having some bot fresh off the assembly line taking care of me. I've got enough problems to deal with."

"Huffer, I assure you nothing bad will happen. Ratchet is just here to observe and learn. Now he's just going to take down your maintenance history while I sit here and make sure he gets everything. As soon as that's done we'll get down to why you're here."

Ratchet offered Huffer a smile as he took a seat on the exam room's stool and brought up his data-pad. "Alright, so when was your last general exam?"

"Before you were even protoformed," Huffer responded, arms crossed over his chassis.

"Okay." He went down the list, checking off each section and looked to First Alert who nodded in approval. Finally coming to the end, Ratchet looked up. "So Huffer, what brings you here today?"

"My left shoulder's been acting up." To emphasize his point, Huffer started to rotate it. It made creaking sounds and seemed to stick whenever Huffer tried to hold his hand above his head. "I think it could be rust, you're going to have to replace the entire limb." Noting the smirk on Ratchet's face as he was quickly writing on the data-pad, Huffer became frustrated. "You think I'm malfunctioning, don't you? You don't trust me to know when my own chassis is acting strangely!"

Ratchet's optic ridge ticked slightly and he gripped at the data pad, forcing a smile through gritted dental plates. He cycled a long breath through his vents before speaking. "I don't think you're malfunctioning; let's just do a complete work-up before we go thinking the worst."

"Don't give me that slag." Huffer grumbled, "Its rust, I know its rust."

Giving a defeated sigh, Ratchet looked back over at First Alert. "A little help?"

"Oh but you're doing such a fine job." He said, sarcastically.

Ratchet went back to trying to calm Huffer down who seemed certain that he was suffering from rust even with the assurance that there had not been a case of the debilitating illness for a good 100 stellar cycles.

"Oh what do you know?" Huffer gave an exasperated sigh. "You wouldn't know how to fix a lamp."

Taken aback, Ratchet's optic's narrowed into thin slits. He was about to give Huffer a good chunk of his processor when First Alert thankfully intervened.

"I'm sure it's not rust." First Alert began, gently placing a servo on Huffer's good shoulder. "If you want though I'll run a full diagnostic and give you a thorough visual inspection just to rule it or anything else out." The other mech seemed to relax under that reassurance.

"Thanks Doc." Huffer heaved a sigh.

"Now just lay down and we'll start." First Alert said smoothly. Ratchet watched as First Alert began to work. He first ran a diagnostic, plugging into one of Huffer's ports. He was quiet for several moments before unplugging himself and patting Huffer's side. "Sit up. So, Huffer, you've been working on that new merchant center, haven't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, but what does that have to anything?"

"Quite a bit, you've been lifting more than your maximum limit, haven't you?" He then asked. The sheepish look on Huffer's face told him enough. "Your diagnostic read several pulled muscle cables. You have to take it easy. You're not as young as you used to be."

"Hey I'm still one of the strongest Autobots around!" He protested, "Besides we've got to get that center done in a deca-cycle or our bonus will be taken away. I can't take any time off."

"Huffer, if you don't give your body time to heal it will lead to major maintenance down the road." He stated, firmly. "You need to take better care of yourself."

"I promise I'll take a nice long vacation after this job is done, Autobot's honor." He said, raising his right servo.

First Alert just gave a sigh and shook his head. "Fine, I'll stabilize you with an interface patch right now but you'll have to see Remedy about replacing those blown cables. I'll write you the referral now. Be sure to give him a call in the next orbital cycle, he's pretty busy so it'll be at least a deca-cycle before he'll be able to get you in." Sitting down he started write and let Huffer stew on that information.

Huffer started to look a little uncomfortable. "I thought you said they were just strained. Why am I going to need to see the surgeon?"

"Well if you keep on working with those strained cables they will rupture and you'll probably need the entire section refitted with new gears on top of the cable replacement."

"Bu-but that's major work! I'll be out for a quartex at the very least." Huffer stammered. "There's got to be something you can do Doc. I can't be out of work for that long; I've got three fuel tanks to fill."

First Alert held out a small digi-pad to him. "I've done all I can do, it's all up to you now."

Defated, Huffer's head dropped a little. "I'll see what I can do. Grapple isn't going to be happy to hear this."

"I'll give him a call and explain the situation to him, now lay back down and I'll set up that interface patch to stabilize everything but I want you to take the next three orbital cycles off."

Without further protest, Huffer laid down and let First Alert perform the procedure. Ratchet cautiously moved closer, observing the method and technique that First Alert used.

"Does the kid have to get so close?" Huffer grumbled, looking over at him. "He makes me nervous."

"He's got to learn." First Alert responded, "Didn't you learn by watching others?"

"Yeah but being a Doc and building things aren't the same."

"Maybe so, but he still has to learn from gaining experience." There was a long pause as First Alert fished placing the patch. "And Ratchet seems to be particularly well suited for this profession."

Huffer snorted a little and as soon as First Alert had pulled away, sat up, rubbing his shoulder. "Still feels a little sticky."

"It's going to feel that way for a while and that's why you need to rest and allow your body's repair network do its job. I want to see you in half a deca-cycle for a follow up." First Alert helped Huffer off the exam table and followed him to the door. "Now call right away if anything starts to malfunction." He handed Huffer the data-pad, "Ferra will take care of everything when you go. Take care."

The other Autobot gave a nod and thanked him for the fix. Setting the chart back in the little rack by the door, First Alert headed to the next exam room.

"Sir," Ratchet followed him. "Did you really mean what you said?"

Grabbing the second chart, he looked over at him. "And what was that?"

"That I'm suited for this."

"Don't let it go to your head." Was all he said before going into the next room. The rest of the day went by much the same way. He saw a variety of different illnesses and injuries all minor though. The others were much easier to deal with although there was an incident with a Sparkling lubricating on him in the middle of an exam.

At the end of the day, the group came back together for evening rounds. The others were all buzzing about what they had seen and done. During rounds, they discussed the progress of the current cases and the addition of some new cases since several had been discharged over the course of the day. First Alert was about ready to dismiss them when his com started to beep nanoseconds before Hoist's and the others went off.

"Who here knows mass casualty protocol?" First Alert asked. Ratchet and few others raised their servos and First Alert quickly told them to follow him while dismissing the others.

"Sir, what's going on? Is this some sort of drill?" One of them asked.

"I wish. A transport inbound from Moon Base Two crashed while it was in its final descent." He explained, rushing down the stairs. "We have roughly a breem before the first of the critical patients arrive. Just to make sure you malfunctions actually know it, what are the 4 levels of the MCI?"

"Green, walking wounded. Will survive no matter what care is given. They go into evaluation. Yellow, stable, but requires medical attention because damage could result in loss of spark. They are admitted into observation. Red, immediate treatment required to prevent loss of spark, straight-line them to an open trauma bay. Black, damage severe but even with treatment, loss of spark is immanent. Admit them to observation and let a physician decide next course of action." Ratchet quickly rattled off.

"Very good." Coming to the ground level, First Alert threw open the doors. They were now in the Emergency department. The entire area was abuzz as the doctors and nurses were preparing while others were standing at the ready for the first to arrive. He walked up to the duty nurse and nodded towards the small group behind him. "I brought some help."

"We'll take all we can get. Keep the board up to date! If there's not a team ready, tell the medic to take the injured to the next open bay. If there isn't an open bay, tell them to set up wherever they can find a berth and get a doctor, can you do that?" The group nodded.

The hospital was a level-one trauma center and had seven dedicated bays. It also had 15 berths for standard emergency care. As the sound of approaching sirens got closer, Ratchet could feel his pump start to beat harder and surges of anticipation began to course through him. The doors opened as the first medic sped in, skillfully moving the patient from the cab to a transport berth.

"Ground worker at the airfield, hit by falling debris!" The medic shouted, transforming. "Damage severe, 45 percent of his systems are redlining. Two units Engergon given en route, oil pressure is low and primary pump function is down to less then 25%."

A chill went down Ratchet's back as he watched the first team spring into action, taking the berth and moving the injured cybertronian into the first open trauma bay. Medics began arriving one after another and in a few short minutes all the trauma bays were filled and the hospital was faced with trying to figure out where to place the still incoming wounded. Many of the trauma bays were doubled up just to keep the criticals from backing up into the halls.

"Take that one to bay 5!" Ratchet ordered a medic that was just pulling in. It had been non-stop since that first medic arrived and he was finding it hard to keep the board up to date with how many injured they were receiving. The hospital was officially on defer, sending all non-critical wounded to the other area hospitals but the critical ones were still coming in. The others were busy fielding questions from worried family members trying to find out if their loved ones were there and if they were functioning. He took a moment to catch his breath and rubbed his chevron.

"We need more gauze over here!" A nurse shouted from the waiting room that was currently doubling as a care area for all the walking wounded. Seeing everyone else disposed, Ratchet left the duty desk and ran to the supply room for the gauze.

He paused for a moment to look into one of the repair bays. First Alert was in the trauma bay, working on a patient with two nurses. The yellow mech had a large gaping wound on the left part of his chest plate. Things looked stable and they were getting ready to move him to surgery when the monitors suddenly started to ring. The sound startled him and the boxes he had been carrying clattered to the floor.

"His pressure's dropping!"

First Alert cursed loudly as he tried to find the cause of the sudden deterioration. One of the tubes to the peripheral arterial pump in his right stabilizing servo had ruptured but what was worse was that there were now cracks in his oil lines that fed directly into his primary pump. One was easily clamped off but the second was in a hard to reach area, just under the pump itself. He needed an extra set of hands so he could work on getting the other problems under control. He saw Ratchet out of the corner of his optic.

"Ratchet, get in here!"

He rushed in and before he could even ask what he could do, First Alert had grabbed hold of Ratchet's left servo and placed it within the wound, skillfully plugging the tear with Ratchet's index digit.

"Don't move." He ordered. "We need to get him stable again."

Ratchet could only nod as he tried to get accustomed to the sensation. The oil and hydraulics were warm and he had to fight against that nausea that threatened to cause his tank to purge. He could feel the pump beating against his servo; it was weak but at least steady. "Please, don't offline, not now." He muttered quietly.

"Surgery two is open and waiting for him!"

"Alright, let's move it!" First Alert ordered as he started to push the berth out of the bay. "Ratchet, be sure to keep up and don't let your digit slip."

"I understand." Ratchet was determined not to fail; this mech was counting on him.

As soon as they were in the operating room, the surgeon was able to clamp the bleeder off and allow Ratchet to retract his servo. One of the nurses helped him out of the OR.

"You should probably sit down for a few nano-clicks."

Ratchet waved it off. "No, I'm-." He stopped and started to look around, "Do you hear that buzzing?" The sound was growing louder, drowning out all the noises around him, even the nurse who was right in front of him sounded distant. She was sounded frantic but he couldn't make out what she was saying. The buzzing turned into crackling and the last thing Ratchet could recall was that the floor was suddenly a lot closer then he remembered it being a moment ago.

"Ratchet, can you hear me?"

There were a few moments of static as his optics came back online Ratchet saw the nurse and First Alert standing over him. He took a look around, his processes still lagging as they booted up. He was seated and there was an IV of low-grade energon being fed into one of his tubes. How did that get there? He went to pull it out but the nurse lightly smacked his servo away.

Ratchet then tried to stand but the nurse quickly held him in place while First Alert shined a light in his optics. Ratchet winced, his processor finally getting back up to speed. "What happened?"

First Alert pulled back, a bemused smile on his face. "Your coolant lines stopped circulating for a cycle or so and you passed out. Your readouts are fine now so just let the low-grade finish and then head home. I want to see you the day after tomorrow for your next shift."

Nodding, Ratchet let his head rest against the wall. "Hey, what about that mech, did he pull through?"

"He's doing fine, Ratchet. They had to put him in stasis lock to keep his spark from going offline but they're going to pull him out of it in an orbital cycle." First Alert told him, "The surgeon is optimistic that he'll make a full recovery."

A satisfied sigh escaped Ratchet's lips as he felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Thank Primus."

"I need to get back downstairs, you take it easy." He advised.

"I'll go with you, just give me an astrosecond." Ratchet tried to get up again but was quickly pushed back down by First Alert.

"No, the worst of it seems to be over and you'd be more of a hazard. Go home and recharge." The look Ratchet was giving him was pitiful but First Alert didn't concede. "Ratchet, you did more then a second cycle repair student should. You deserve a good long recharge and a can of 40W oil."

"But I can still-"

"You've helped enough." First Alert said, firmly. "Now rest before I force you into stasis lock. Primus save us from repair students." When he was sure Ratchet wouldn't give the nurse any difficulties, he left. Ratchet was a stubborn one but the fact that his first thoughts were of the patient and his desire to help despite his own injuries meant that his spark was in the right place.


End file.
